


Holiday

by hellostarlight20



Series: Shall We Dance [7]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Holidays, NSFW, Nine in a tux, Partying, Romance, Smut, Telepathic Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:45:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7092757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellostarlight20/pseuds/hellostarlight20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Jack's Naming Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> @caedmonfaith’s 10 fic challenge for this gorgeous Nine/Rose manip based on 10 words.

“Did you celebrate birthdays on the Boeshane Peninsula?” Rose asked over breakfast.

Jack cooked, a delicious spread that included all the proper food groups not just her personal favorites. Ever since the Game Station, he’d taken to more healthy meals. Something about not wanting to ruin his second chance. Rose didn’t really know what that meant, but as long as she didn’t have to cook first thing in the morning, she was fine with it.

“We had our Naming Days,” Jack admitted.

She stood and crossed the kitchen to stand next to him at the stovetop. Placing her hand on his arm, she waited until he looked at her. “What’s that?”

He took a while to look at her, and when he did, the normally brilliant gaze that smiled and laughed at life, looked broken and shattered. Rose squeezed his hand, her heart aching for this man who became a dear friend.

In the back of her mind, she felt the Doctor’s concern. He’d left their bed early this morning, just as she forced her eyes open, promising a fantastic surprise and she hadn’t seen him since. Not an unusual happening

 _I’m fine_ , she hastily assured him.

Rose tried to send more but no matter how she practiced in the weeks since their initial session in the Zero Room, her telepathy was still sketchy when they weren’t touching. The Doctor insisted she’d get better with practice, but Rose loved the depth of their connection and wanted it all the time. And she wanted it now.

He didn’t seem mollified, and Rose knew he already made his way to the kitchens. His concern warmed her even if it was unnecessary.

“I suppose it’s the same as your birthday,” Jack said now, in a far softer voice than his normally bombastic tone. “It’s the day your parents brought you into the village and announced your name. That day there’s a big celebration but every year after that you get little gifts.”

“When’s your Naming Day?” Rose whispered. Tears prickled her eyes and though she insisted to the Doctor she was fine, she knew better than to think he’d stay away when she cried.

“It’s on the fifth day of Ti'll Bet, the third lunar month of the Year of the H'ator.”

The Doctor waited outside the kitchen, and Rose sent a mental kiss and a plea to wait. She didn’t know if Jack would continue speaking about his past with the Doctor here, and she didn’t want to take that chance.

“Well.” Rose kissed Jack’s cheek and grinned at him.

The Doctor’s low growl had lust pooling low and hot in her belly, her sex throbbing in time to the blood rushing through her. Rose tried to hide her reaction, but knew it was no use—from either the Doctor or Jack.

“Good thing today’s that day, Jack.”

She stepped back, still grinning. Jack looked at her oddly, that shattered, broken look in his eyes slowly replaced with confusion. The Doctor sent her something she didn’t catch.

 _Doctor?_ She sent back.

_Rose Tyler, you’re amazing._

Whenever he used her name like that, when he caressed each syllable like he did her body, Rose knew how he felt for her. She grinned wider, both at Jack and beaming at the Doctor, who sent her a wave of affection so strong it nearly knocked her off her feet.

“Woah,” Jack said and caught her. “All right there, Rosie?”

She shook her head, tried to clear it. “Yeah.” Her voice sounded thick and she swallowed hard. “Yeah, fine.”

“Telepathic sex.” He nodded sagely, that salacious grin back. “It’s a doozy.”

Blushing, Rose stepped back. No matter how she knew the Doctor cared for Jack in his own way, and how he knew how much she loved him, the Doctor was a very jealous Time Lord.

Just then the Doctor entered the kitchens. “Breakfast ready?” he asked casually.

Rose moved to his side, took his hand. Steadiness flowed through her, and Rose knew it was only partially hers. They had a very symbiotic relationship, she decided and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“It’s a birthday breakfast,” she said and squeezed his hand. Contentment flowed between them and she sighed. “Today is Jack’s Naming Day.”

“Good thing we’re on Grazla, then,” the Doctor said and kissed the top of her head.

She still wasn’t used to the casual affection he showed. Sure, in their bed it was one thing, but that was private, between them. In front of Jack or Mickey, or her mum? Or even when they explored new worlds or hidden sections of London, the easy way he kissed her or brushed his fingers down her cheek made her heart flip every time.

Rose fervently hoped she never grew so used to that she couldn’t appreciate it for the gift it was.

“What’s Grazla?” Jack asked and transferred the eggs, meat, and fruit to serving platters.

“Holiday planet,” the Doctor said nonchalantly as he took two of the platters.

“Oh, do they have fun fairs?” Rose asked and set the juice carafe on the table.

“Nope!” He grinned at her and her heart did a slow flip in her chest.

She’d never been so happy to not hide her feelings for this amazing man as she was when he did things like that. When he smiled so happily, so freely, and directed it all at her.

It wouldn’t have worked anyway; Rose was amazed it worked at all. Though looking back it probably hadn’t—he had to have known how she cared for him. How she wanted him from the first and that want slipped into love.

“Not like you’re thinking. Chance for you to dress up, Rose. You, too, Captain.” The Doctor nodded at Jack. “It’s a holiday planet where they celebrate whatever you’re there to celebrate. Every day, all year—and that’s 403 Earth days—they celebrate with you, whatever you’re there to commemorate.”

“And…” Jack stared at him. “And we’re going to celebrate my Naming Day?”

“Yup!” The Doctor nodded serenely, as relaxed as Rose had ever seen him.

She slipped her hand into his, the spark of sink-on-skin a fire in her veins. _I want you always like this_ , she thought and hoped he understood her words as well as her emotions. _I want you always this relaxed and happy. I love you._

His smile softened and she knew he heard her. _Rose Tyler, you make me happier than I ever thought possible._

Rose heard: _I love you, more than anything._ And stood, unable not to. She stood and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight.

“I can’t remember the last time I celebrated my Naming Day,” Jack admitted.

His voice sounded thick with emotion but Rose didn’t comment on it. Wouldn’t.

 ********  
Rose dressed carefully. She wanted to make this holiday as special for Jack as possible. They decided to go all out, tuxes for the men and a full-on ball gown for her. She took her time picking out the gown, alternating between fun and flirty and drop-dead gorgeous.

“What do you think?”

Rose held up the floor-length midnight-blue creation and waited for the TARDIS’s answer. Diamonds twinkled in an X over the bodice, highlighting her breasts and drawing attention to the daring low-cut. The halter was also studded with diamonds—real ones (she asked the TARDIS) and though she didn’t want to know where the Doctor found such a design, she absolutely needed to wear it.

Plus it had a slit up to her thigh and very little in the way of a back. Leaving much of her skin free to the Doctor’s touch.

The lights flashed once—yes—and Rose grinned.

She lay the dress over the bed and shed her dressing gown. Her fancy, barely-there knickers matched the midnight blue of her gown. Rose debated her suspender belt, but decided on the thigh-high stockings instead. They made her feel sexier.

The dress didn’t lend itself to a bra, not with no back, but had a reinforced shelf bra sewn in. A real one, Rose was thrilled to realize, not the sort that barely held your boobs. She slid the zipper up her side and hid the tab in the seam.

Then jumped up and down a couple times. One never knew when one must run for one’s life. Best to be prepared in all situations. Satisfied, Rose slipped on her heels. She tightened the straps, flexed one then the other foot—just in case, and was satisfied she could run in them enough to outpace murderous mobs.

Rose adjusted the bodice, fixed her cleavage, and took a deep breath. Then she turned to the mirror.

“Oh.” Rose took a minute to take in her appearance. She’d curled her long hair and pinned it up on the sides so it fell in soft waves around her bare shoulders. “I look damn good.”

The TARDIS lights flashed once—yes.

“Thank you.” Rose smiled. She pressed her fingers to her lips and then those fingers to the TARDIS coral of their bedroom.

She stepped out of their bedroom and sashayed her way down the hall. She trailed her fingertips along the coral hallway and in the back of her mind, Rose heard the TARDIS’s tilling laughter. Rose grinned and laughed with her.

Ever since becoming the Bad Wolf, it was easier to communicate with the ship. Almost as if remnants of her time joined with the Heart still lingered. The Doctor insisted nothing of the sort happened, she was perfectly fine, no harm to her DNA or anything like it. Still…Rose knew and suspected the TARDIS did as well—

Something of the Wolf remained.

Shaking it off, Rose stopped in the doorway between the hallway and the console room. As expected, Jack and the Doctor waited for her. Jack lounged on the seat, the Doctor leaned against the console, arms folded over his chest, frowning at the floor.

Jack whistled appreciatively and stood. “Looking good, Rosie.”

“Not so bad yourself, Jack.” Rose eyed him and grinned. He did fill out a tux nicely.

“Rose.” The word caught in the Doctor’s throat, broke on the end.

She looked at her lover, the love of her life, and slowly smiled. “I do love you in a tux,” she purred.

The Doctor stood before her in two strides. Rose expected him to grab her close, to snog her senseless—she purposely hadn’t put on any lippy in anticipation of that. But his hands hovered over her shoulders, down her arms.

He didn’t touch her, merely hovered, tracing her skin as if afraid to feel her, to open their bond. No, not afraid, hesitant to do so, Rose thought--not because he was scared, but because he loved her. And if the Doctor never actually said those words, it didn’t matter. She didn’t need to hear them.

Because Rose heard them every single time they touched. Felt them deep in her soul. Knew them without hearing them whenever the Doctor looked at her like that--like he was starving and she the only sustenance he needed.

“Rose,” the Doctor repeated.

Nearly overcome with love for this strong, controlled man who stumbled when it came to expressing his emotions, Rose took his hand and twined their fingers tightly together. Even then she wasn’t bombarded by emotions or images of how beautiful she looked. Only one. Only one emotion, the only one that mattered.

It flowed through her like a gentle wave, a current between the two of them.

_Rose Tyler_

She grinned up at the Doctor, tongue teasing the side of her mouth. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest and sheer love and joy closed her throat, pricked the back of her eyes. She squeezed his hand. Poured every ounce of love into that touch and every bit of mental strength into their telepathic bond. _I love you, too, my Doctor._

“Are we heading out?” Jack asked.

Rose smiled but didn’t look from the Doctor. She squeezed his hand tighter and said, “As soon as someone helps me across the grating.” 

Before she could take the Doctor’s arm for their normal trek, he swept her into his embrace and carried her to the door. Rose clutched his shoulders and laughed blissfully. She looked over at Jack who grinned back and shook his head, holding the doors open for them.

“Happy Birthday, Jack,” Rose said as the Doctor set her on the ground. She slipped on hand through the Doctor’s arm, the other through Jack’s. “Let’s go celebrate.”

Grazla was not the brightly colored planet Rose expected. No banners or signs hung from the tall buildings in celebration of anything and the buildings were not painted either. They were stone, a uniform garnet-colored stone Rose didn’t recognize. Still, they held a symmetry the artist in her enjoyed. 

“Welcome to Grazla,” a tall willowy grey-skinned humanoid said and bowed before them. “I am Trullo, your celebration guide today. What holiday do you wish to celebrate?”

“A birthday,” Rose said immediately and grinned widely at the being in front of them. She squeezed Jack’s arm and nodded her chin in his direction. “It’s his Naming Day today.”

Rose slipped her hand into the Doctor’s, slid her palm along his so as to enhance the full effect of their touch telepathy. After they spent however long Jack wanted celebrating his Naming Day, they’d have their own, private, holiday. Just she and the Doctor. In their bedroom.

 _Promise?_ He asked, a truly filthy grin there and gone before anyone but she noticed.

“Oh yes,” she whispered, just to be clear. _Promise._

 ********  
Rose sighed into his touch, the cool possession of his mouth on her body. Her hips arched beneath that talented mouth, the slow torture of his tongue on her wetness, slowly circling her clit.

“Doctor,” she whimpered. “Touch me, please.”

He purposely _wasn’t_ touching her and Rose knew that. Teasing her with his mouth only, the slow slide of his tongue on her only aroused her more, kept her on the razor’s edge. Had done for hours now.

Body slick with sweat, nipples aching for his fingers, his mouth, his teeth, her clit a throbbing ache of need, Rose once more arched beneath him. He merely followed her movements. His tongue dipped into her wetness and she moaned. His teeth scraped over her clit and she sucked in a breath.

“I need to feel you,” Rose begged, far beyond any niceties. “I need your touch, Doctor. I need your hands on me. I _want_ your hands on me.”

He’d tied her to the headboard hours ago, claiming her couldn’t trust her not to touch him. He was right, of course, she couldn’t be. Not when she made love to a touch telepath, not when their connection flared so brilliantly to life whenever they touched.

And when they made love that connection, that bond, that union burst through her. Enclosed her in his warmth and embrace, held her close to his hearts, his very soul.

“I love touching you,” she managed, hips jerking against his mouth. “I love when our skin meets. I want to feel you against me. I want to feel you in my mind.”

“How do you want me against you?” the Doctor asked. The first words he’d spoken since tying her to the headboard untold eroticisms ago.

Her sex clenched and her belly ached with the excruciatingly exquisite tension of hovering on that edge. She wanted her orgasm, God did she. But the Doctor teased her, lay on their bed and spent hours—maybe forever—slowly building her up and up and even further up, past the point she thought she’d survive, past the point of coherence.

“Doctor,” Rose sobbed. Beseeched, supplicated herself to him.

She pulled on the restraints, a soft rope he just so happened to have lying around, heels digging into the bedding. Some part of her realized he wanted this. Her so open about her desires she simply told him, _begged_ him, pleaded with him to _fuck her_.

“I want your hands on my breasts. I want you to tease my nipples until they’re so sensitive I can’t stand another touch. Until I come from that alone. I want your body against mine. God, do I want to feel your body on me. Your cool skin touching me. I want to your cock stretching me. I want my legs around your waist. I want you mind caressing mine.”

The Doctor reached up and easily slipped the knot so she was no longer tied to the headboard, though her hands remained bound together. Rose immediately brought them down, intent on touching him no matter how free her hands were or were not.

“Turn around,” he ordered. “On your knees.”

An impossible surge of arousal tightened even more through her and Rose eagerly obeyed. She reached out and gripped the intricate swirls of the wrought iron headboard and looked over her shoulder.

“Spread your legs,” the Doctor commanded, and she widened her stance.

And then he touched her. Rose nearly came from that alone. His fingers trailed down her spine, a slow dance along each vertebra. His touch sparked through her, opening her in ways she hadn’t known existed before the Doctor.

She may have moaned. She definitely whimpered. Rose arched into his touch, desperate to feel more of him. The Doctor tutted, and how did he continue to have such control? It was so not fair. And then he took her hips, oh glorious feeling, and pressed his chest to her back.

Rose did come then. She screamed her climax and bucked her hips against his, body seeking more of his. Craving more of his touch. His cock nestled between her buttocks and his fingers slipped up her ribs to her breasts. He cupped her breasts, pinched her nipples, and still touched her.

That was all that mattered.

Her orgasm built again, a quick tight coil ready to snap. One of the Doctor’s hands left her body and Rose cried out. But she felt him behind her, still touching as much as possible in this position, and knew he took himself in hand.

She wanted to do that. She wanted to let her fingers trial over his cock. Wanted to taste him, hungry for every part of him.

Slowly, far too slowly, he entered her.

“Please,” she sobbed, and tried to move her hips, but he held her still.

“Rose,” he chanted. “Rose.”

And finally, finally moved. He pounded hard and fast against her, and Rose loved it. Her fingers gripped the headboard, desperate to ground herself as her orgasm coiled tighter and tighter—the Doctor’s fingers brushed over her clit and she came.

He knelt between her legs, body solidly against hers, his hands next to hers on the headboard and still he thrust into her. It was too much, so much, and Rose came again, head tossed back against his shoulder. The Doctor buried his face in the crook of her neck, but didn’t touch her temples.

With so much of their skin already touching it wasn’t necessary.

Rose felt him. He surrounded her and moved with her, and together they raced toward the final climax. She felt him stiffen behind her, felt his cool seed within her as his own orgasm overcame him. She climaxed one final time. Rose shuddered and rode him until the last of her orgasm calmed.

Boneless, breathing hard, she collapsed against him. The Doctor caught her, always caught her. He gently laid her on the bed and untied the rope around her wrist. Rose wanted to look at her skin, but somehow already knew the soft rope didn’t leave a mark. That mark wouldn’t have been the Doctor’s—he preferred to mark her with hands and teeth and lips. His. Nothing so mundane as rope burn.

“Blimey,” Rose managed, her heart only now starting to slow, though her skin continued to tingle.

The Doctor snorted an aborted laugh.

“I really love telepathic sex,” she admitted.

He laughed again and rolled over. Propped up on one hand, he settled the other just beneath her left breast where her heart beat. The Doctor leaned over and kissed her temple and the rush of lust and love nearly undid her.

“Rose Tyler,” he murmured. “I’ll show you telepathic sex.”

What she heard: _I love you and will make you come a dozen more times before curling around you as you sleep._

Rose turned to face him and slid her leg over his thigh until her sex pressed to his cock. _I look forward to it, Time Lord._


End file.
